


Working Out the Knots

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choices, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Divorce, M/M, Massage, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No choice is easy, and most of the seem to be impossible. The hardest part is trying to keep the next generation from making the same mistakes Stiles has already made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Out the Knots

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a complicated week, what with my brain not remembering the correct prompt at first. BUT. Choices is definitely one of the angsty side points of this series, so a new installment was a given. As always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf.

“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice finally.”

Stiles makes a noncommittal grunt, because really, what is he supposed to say that? He shrugs, trying not to flinch when he feels hands on his shoulders, knows his ex-husband is standing behind him. Instead, he hunches further over his laptop, the latest in a long line of Macs since he got his first when he was fifteen. His fingers glide over the keyboard as he searches through the database he’s put together, trying to come up with some kind of a solution according to the few facts they know. Or at least, a direction.

“Telling Nikki,” Jackson clarifies, his thumbs digging into hard muscle, careful and sure, and fuck, of _course_ Jackson still knows how to get to him.

Stiles lets his head fall forward, unable to stop the small whine when Jackson finds a knot and begins to work it out with a circular motion of his fingers. “No one gives massages like you,” he mutters. “It’s not fair. I will just keep telling myself you’re trying to get into my pants and ignore the bliss.”

“Not true,” Jackson says easily. “When I end up in your bed again, you’ll be begging me to be there. And Nikki had damn well better be out of the house.”

Stiles twists around and by the time he looks, Jackson is laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. There are lines there that he didn’t used to have, and Stiles can see how they are drawn by laughter and humor and for a flash of a moment, he resents that Jackson has had so much to laugh at in the last decade.

But he can’t resent it, not really. For all that he’s spent all this time hating him, at the same time, Stiles was happy in Beacon Hills with Nikki. He can’t resent Jackson’s happiness, can he?

Instead, he nudges Jackson’s hands away and pushes away from the table, hands at the small of his back as he stands up and stretches.

“I can help.”

Stiles gives him a glare, but there isn’t any heat behind it. He sighs. “You’re irritating when you flirt.” And the worst of it is, every time Jackson touches him, Stiles remembers. He remembers _everything_ about being with him, all the fights and every moment of brilliance. He pushes his fingers through his hair. He needs to distract himself. “Am I forgiven for making idiotic choices where the Nemeton is concerned?”

Jackson’s expression goes tight. “Mostly,” he allows. “I’d ask what you were thinking, but I don’t think you can honestly explain it in a way that won’t still hurt. You were a _complete_ idiot, and so was Lydia, and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say about the two of you working together. I’m more worried about what idiotic choice you’ll make now that it’s active again.”

Stiles winces. “I’m not going to do anything suicidal. I’m more worried about one of the others. Think about it…” He glances at the stairs, cocking his head, brow furrowing.

“Nikki’s not home. We’re alone,” Jackson tells him.

Stiles relaxes slowly. “I don’t want to say this in front of Nik and Caleb. But think about it. There were— _are_ —three guardians for the Nemeton. Two of them reproduced, which makes Caleb something like a child of the Nemeton itself. My guess is the beacon’s waking up because _he_ is coming into adulthood, and he’s linking himself to Nikki, who has her own very bizarre link with the stump, thanks to me and Lydia and well, lightning. If there _is_ a key to switching it off again, it lies with them, and that’s not a decision I want them to even _think_ about making.”

“How much like Scott is Caleb?”

It’s a _valid_ question, but Stiles has to admit that it’s not the _right_ question. “A lot. But he’s not going to leap into something. He considers every option, and he’s very fair-minded. He has all of Allison’s tactical reasoning, which is great in sports but not something I want to see applied right this second. The problem is Nikki. She is incredibly intelligent, just like her mom, but she’s all heart. If she thinks she can save someone’s life, she’d leap into a whirlpool to haul them out, even if she wasn’t sure she could get out herself.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Jackson says dryly, then he’s behind Stiles again, those fingers light and firm as they dig through the tension of Stiles’s shoulders.

His breath hitches, and he can’t help it, he leans back into that touch. “Yeah, well… I had a lot of influence on her,” Stiles says softly. “Maybe you can make her see reason.”

“After ten years, you’re willing to see something positive in me?” Jackson’s voice is low, a warm breath against the back of Stiles’s neck. Stiles feels the words like a punch to the gut.

“I always saw something positive in you,” he replies quickly. “Well. After you came back from London. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you otherwise. I just—I couldn’t see what you saw in _me_.”

“Is that why you were so willing to believe I’d cheat on you?” The fingers stop, curled over Stiles’s shoulders. “You couldn’t trust me. And you wouldn’t give me the chance—”

“You didn’t even try to explain,” Stiles points out, all the tension bleeding back into him at the memories.

“I didn’t want to see you reject me because you wouldn’t believe.” Jackson drops his hands and steps away. By the time Stiles turns, Jackson’s arms are crossed, his jaw set. “You’d already made your mind up, Stiles. You threw me out, remember? You made the choice to end us.”

They’re arguing again, and that aches in Stiles’s bones. He feels it, like an illness that he just can’t shake, and he’s tired of it. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Then don’t.” Jackson slowly unwinds his crossed arms, spreads his hands. “We can start from here. Make the decision to go forward and try not to think about the fuckups of the past.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s fixed.”

Jackson nods, expression tight. “I know.”

But it means there’s a chance. Stiles is pretty sure Jackson knows that as well as he does. And when Stiles sits down again at the laptop, fingers ghosting over the keyboard, Jackson captures his shoulders once more. Digging in, feeling for the knots, and gently, carefully working them out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Couldn't Trust Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043117) by [OnTheGround2012](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheGround2012/pseuds/OnTheGround2012)




End file.
